Part 6 (1/2)
”You can feel other people's emotions?” Josh asked, his eyes on the road.
I nodded. ”The first time it happened was at Mrs. Saddlebury's house.” I turned to Christa. ”That's the thing-you would think that she would be feeling sad or shocked from the death of her husband. But she was so angry-angry with Aunt Avril. I didn't just empathize with her, I felt so angry that it made me sick.” I hugged my stomach as the queasiness returned. ”And then, today, I could tell that her neighbor was lying and embarra.s.sed.”
”Maybe you really are psychic, like Aunt Avril.” Christa laughed until she saw that I wasn't joining in.
Josh watched me in the mirror. I tried to block out the feeling, mentally staving off the sensation of concern that came from Josh in waves. Knowing that he was worried about me felt wrong somehow, like I was trespa.s.sing in his thoughts. Nausea swelled my throat tight. I gagged and swallowed. I had to figure out a way to get this emotional tuning-in under control.
We pulled over in time for me to lose my lunch in the field, one block away from my house.
A note was taped to the fridge, scrawled in Mom's hasty handwriting: Pizza's in the freezer. Cooking show-back at 9. Dad has the kids. Love, Mom.
Mom's teaching people to cook, and I'm eating frozen pizza. I took one look at the cardboard box, and put the pizza back in the freezer. The house was darker than usual because of the storm, and it was empty without the nightly bustle of my family there to fill it. Rows of homemade suckers sat on the counter. Mom was getting things ready for her county fair booth that weekend.
My stomach finally settled back down. Christa had fussed over me, but I had a.s.sured her that it was all of the excitement of the day. The rain had slowed to a drizzle, but Josh had insisted that he drive me the last block home.
I didn't usually enjoy being home by myself, but this time I was glad for the privacy. I wanted to look up some more about Irish dancing on the Internet. But first, I had a phone call to make.
After a hot shower, I snuggled into my favorite fleece pants and a nights.h.i.+rt. With one of Mom's decadent chocolate-with-chocolate chip cookies and a gla.s.s of milk, I settled down into Dad's oversized office chair. I smoothed Ms. Slannon's note onto the desk.
”Leah Carlton.” I took a deep breath. If Rourke wouldn't teach me to dance, maybe this Leah would.
I dialed the number, my heart pounding. The phone kept ringing, with no response. I waited for voicemail, but it never picked up. Who doesn't have voicemail? I hung up the phone and took a bite of my cookie.
I couldn't block out the emotion of Rourke's dancing. Despite Christa's reservations about him, something had exploded inside of me when I saw him dance. I wanted to move with the same feeling and intensity. I wanted to feel that release-to dance with such feeling that the emotions inside me would float away like bubbles in the breeze.
The front door slammed, and I jumped. I peeked down the stairs. Aunt Avril struggled into the kitchen with a white paper sack in each hand. She took off her wet jacket and plopped the bags on the kitchen counter, muttering to herself.
”Hi Aunt Avril,” I called as I gathered my dishes and brought them with me down the stairs.
”Oh, h.e.l.lo, dearie. Are you the only one home?”
”Mom's teaching a cla.s.s tonight. What is that?”
From the paper bags, Aunt Avril pulled a cornhusk-wrapped tamale. ”I was in Thayne, so I stopped by Juan's House of Tacos and bought enough for the whole family.” She dumped the rest of them out of the bags, giving me a playful grin. ”I guess we will have to eat them all ourselves.”
She handed me a tamale, and I joined her at the counter. We didn't talk until I had polished off two of the tamales, complete with an amazing red chili sauce.
”What were you doing in Thayne?” I wiped my mouth with a paper napkin and got up to get us both some water.
”I drove up to talk to a few more of Mrs. Saddlebury's neighbors. Then I stopped by her castle to see if I could find out anything else.”
I choked on my water. ”You went to Mrs. Saddlebury's house alone? Don't you think that's dangerous?”
Aunt Avril smothered her third tamale with green sauce. ”Could be. She wasn't there anyway. And I didn't learn a thing from talking to her neighbors.”
”Is there a chance that Mrs. Saddlebury really is just a grieving widow?”
”It's possible. But my instincts are telling me otherwise. This case fits the description of all of the others, except for one thing. Mr. Saddlebury's body was found right away. I think his death was an accident. He must have gotten in her way.”
”Next time you decide to pay Mrs. Saddlebury a visit, take me with you,” I scolded. ”Promise you won't go alone.” I was concerned about Aunt Avril, but there was also a part of me that wanted to see if I would experience those intense feelings again when I saw Mrs. Saddlebury.
”All right, I promise,” Aunt Avril said around a mouthful of tamale. ”Now, what have you been up to?”
”Dance cla.s.s.” I hesitated, wondering if it was a good idea to tell Aunt Avril that I wanted Rourke to teach me to Irish dance. ”Do you remember I told you about the janitor who dances? Today I asked him if he would teach me.”
”Does your mother know about this?”
”No, she doesn't need to. He said no.” I picked at my own tamale. ”Besides, how is that different from keeping Mom in the dark about how I'm starting to feel the emotions of every person I talk to?”
”Have you been tuning in to other emotions since we visited Betsy?” Aunt Avril pushed her tamale aside, giving me her full attention.
”Some. I've always been able to read people's feelings a little, but now making eye contact with someone in conversation sometimes makes it feel like their emotions just spill out and flow into me.”
Aunt Avril polished off her last bite and faced me. ”Let's try it.” She squeezed her eyes shut and then opened them, locking hers on mine. ”What am I feeling?”
I stared back at her. Nothing happened. Then a feeling faded in and out, like a lens that needed focusing. I zeroed in on the feeling, trying to coax it to the surface. I relaxed, and a chill went from my shoulders down to my fingertips. A calm settled over me.
”Peace?” I asked. ”Are you feeling peaceful?”
”It's called contentment.” Aunt Avril settled back in her chair, patting her belly, a pleased look on her face.
”At first I didn't think I was getting any emotion from you. It was so faint, so barely there, that I hardly noticed it.”
”Some emotions are more easily apparent than others. If you practice, you may be able to recognize even the faintest of emotions.”
A new idea surfaced. What if I looked Lucas in the eye? Would I be able to get a reading on how he felt about me? Chances were, he would be at the county fair this weekend. If I could get a chance to talk to him, maybe I would be able to find out. The thought made me smile. ”Don't worry, Aunt Avril. I'll practice over the weekend.”
”The bonfire dance is the best part of the fair.” Christa stood next to me at the stove, stirring a batch of caramel in an oversized pot with an equally oversized wooden spoon. ”I bet Lucas will ask you to dance.”
”There's only one problem with that idea.” I picked up an apple and stabbed it with a wooden stick. ”He has to know I exist.”
”Of course he does. What about that conversation you had the other day in physics?”
”Asking me where to hand in the a.s.signment isn't exactly a conversation. And I think he's more attracted to Aunt Avril's car than to me.” I rolled my eyes. ”We better get these apples covered so Mom can use the pan when she gets back from the store.”
Christa was spending the night, and she'd decided to come early so we could help Mom make caramel apples and ghost-shaped divinity for the fair.
Layers of waxed paper covered the countertop, and the speared apples stood upright on the counter, ready to be dipped into the caramel sauce. I immersed one in the creamy liquid.
”You never know,” Christa said. ”Maybe now that he's noticed you, he'll ask you out.”
My heart did a little flip. The thought was frightening and exciting at the same time. I sc.r.a.ped the excess caramel off with the wooden spoon, licking a glob of the gooey mixture off of my finger as I picked up another apple.
”Do you think he would? I need to figure out a way to talk to him again and feel things out-ouch!” Pain radiated from my hand, and I dropped the apple into the pot. Hot caramel had slid down the spoon onto my finger while I daydreamed about Lucas. ”What am I thinking? There's no way he's going to ask me out.”
Christa picked up the fallen apple with a pair of tongs and held it so the caramel could run back into the pot. ”You never know.”
Cold water from the faucet soothed my burning finger. Here in my kitchen with Christa, I could pretend that everything was normal. No stupid boys, no giant lizards, and no supposed psychic abilities to keep my mind churning.
The front door slammed and Zoey came running into the kitchen, throwing her backpack on the floor and kicking off her shoes as she came. ”Where's mom?”